


Rendezvous

by sour_apples



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Other, beelzebub is nonbinary and also a lil shit, just them bickering a bit, not really romantic but there are hints of it, poor attempt at character study, this isnt really much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sour_apples/pseuds/sour_apples
Summary: A small drabble of an interaction between the two large and in charge leaders of Heaven and Hell, respectively.----“Must you always request for me when you need to get in contact with our side? I have more important things to attend to you know, than sit here and have you bicker at me.”"..."“Well?”“What can I say? Flies like shit.”





	Rendezvous

An ethereal being with immense amount of power, say an archangel, is not confined to limitations of miracles and physics the same way humans and lesser angels are. Their bodies are both real and untrue to the laws of the universe at the same time, so travel can be done with a single thought, if one thinks hard enough. 

When Gabriel locked himself up in his office and shut the windows, he thinks of the coordinates he was given, and shut his eyes. 

In a minute and a flash of blue lightning, he was exactly where he wanted to be. He assumes of course he’s somewhere awful, they always choose somewhere awful when it’s their turn to choose, but when Gabriel opens his eyes he doesn’t  _ see  _ anything awful. He smells it, senses it, but cannot see the awful past the thick blanket of darkness all around him. This was because, as magical as he was, he didn’t have the ability to see in the dark. It was the price that came with choosing such fragile, sensitive eyes for his corporeal form. The things Gabriel did to maintain that perfect, purple aesthetic he likes so much. He sighs.

His “associate” will be here soon, he knows. He can always pick up when they are near, even if “near” is a thousand something miles under. It’s not necessarily a comforting thought, Gabriel considers, as something foul from where he stands seeps into the soles of his shoes. The smell of wherever he is gets more pungent the longer he stands by himself. If he frequented Earth more often he might recognize it, but heaven has no smell and Gabriel never in his right mind would use his vacation days to visit a planet he practically designed. Not like he gets vacation days, he thinks with a huff. 

Gabriel is brought out of his own thoughts when something faint in the back of his mind jolts to the forefront, and he instantly knows they’re here. He listens as steps march their way up to him and splash through some sort of liquid. He doesn’t wait for them to be in earshot, just starts talking with a confidence that suggests he thinks everyone is always listening to him.

“Fancy meeting you here!” That doesn’t illicit a response. “Where, exactly, is ‘here’?”

“London sewer system.” A voice rings out from a few paces away, echoing against the walls. ….Note to self, talk about where their rendezvous point beforehand so he doesn’t end up  _ here  _ again. Now that he knows and can identify the smell, the more disgusting it gets. They probably did that on purpose.

“Couldn’t we find somewhere more pleasant to do this?”

“Absolutely not,” they replied, voice a little closer than before.

“Why?”   
“It’s not wise to fraternise in broad daylight.” They pause. “Wouldn’t want to end up like  _ thozzze  _ two.”

“It’s not fraternizing, exactly. Not if we’re ‘ _ permitted’ _ .”

The voice starts to pipe up again, but Gabriel is starting to lose focus. It’s hard for him to have a conversation if he doesn’t have something to aim his sneer at.

“Oh hold on a moment. This is ridiculous, and I can’t take you seriously if you’re going to slink about like ...some sort of...some sort of lowlife insect!” Wait. Poor choice of words. He presses right on. “And what an unfair advantage, I know that you can see me, demon. I can’t go about our arrangements trusting you like that, can I? Let there be light!” Gabriel snaps and he and his counterpart are suddenly illuminated in harsh white. It’s only when Beelzebub flinches violently away from it does Gabriel have the sense to remember how sensitive demon eyes, especially the type of demons who never goes outside, can be. The light dims considerably as Beelzebub recovers and it’s a kindness that goes unnoticed, thankfully. “There, that’s better! Now we’re on equal ground.”

The Prince of Hell blinks as they recover, and the constant buzz in the back of their throat gets louder. They’re in the same form they’ve inhabited for over 6,000 years, Gabriel realizes with a little hum. He rather likes the appearance they have now, and there really was no use in wasting a good look.

Beelzebub continues what they had been saying.

“Demons on the ground will report me for  _ anything _ , even so called ‘permitted’ work, if it means they can get a leg up in the rankingzzz-.” 

“Tell me about it,” Gabriel agrees quickly, intentional in cutting the prince off. “I can’t do anything without Sandalphon breathing down my neck. Good guy, as good as an angel can be, but I can tell he’s been eyeing my spot for decades.”

“Aren’t you archangels lot all on the same level?” Beelzebub asks, looking a bit bored. 

“Oh, of course not!” Gabriel almost sounds a bit offended. “Hypothetically, we should, but someone has to take charge and it means ‘someone’ gets a bit more authority than the rest.”

“Well now, heaven doesn’t sound like the democracy you always try to make it out to be.”   
“That’s not fair if I’ve never explicitly said it was. More of a bureaucracy in the traditional sense-,” Gabriel corrects. 

“It doesn’t sound like that either, do you even know the definition of the word?” 

“Of course I do! I know everything, I’m an archangel.”   
“Then you should know the definition.”   
“It’s not like I’m a dictionary, I’m sure you know it too. Pointless rhetorical questions, really.”   
“You’re just avoiding saying it now,” Beelzebub points out, eyeing him up and down.

“Oh? Then what would you call it then?” His patience runs as thin as the sewer water passing over the ground they stand on.   
“I don’t know, and I don’t really give much of a zzzshit. I just don’t think you should go around calling things something they aren’t.” The little(and they really are quite small) bastard looks so indifferent as they talk, it’s borderline aggravating.

With a heavy breathe through his nose, Gabriel steels himself. Smooth, diplomatic, that’s what he is. He doesn’t need to stoop to Beelzebub’s pettiness to gratify himself, he thinks.

“Must you always request for  _ me _ when you need to get in contact with our side? I have more important things to attend to you know, than sit here and have you bicker at me.” Gabriel tried to highlight the annoyance in his tone by adding on his “smile” that would get normally get lesser angels to stop questioning him, but it did nothing to phase the prince of hell. Instead Beezlebub just stared through his terribly bright eyes, like they weren’t particularly absorbing what he had said, although they seemed like they might have been listening. 

There was a long pause and Gabriel rung his hands before placing them firmly on his hips. “Well?” Gabriel was expecting more silence, but a fleeting look of amusement crossed Beelzebub’s face before they opened their mouth. 

“What can I say? Flies like shit.” It was only a small grin that spread across their face, but it was as wicked as anything. (The archangel could pretend, at least for now, that he didn’t find it at all endearing, even with the roundabout insult.) For a demon, they sure looked too pleased for anyone’s liking.    
“How  _ rude _ !” Gabriel added a piss-poor imitation of a human gasp, “I’m considering calling off this meeting all together if you keep it up with that attitu-wait, you like me?” 

“What?” Beelzebub stopped grinning. “No, not-not at all, how zzzztupid can you be. Only an angel of all things would consider that a compliment.”

“That’s what you were implying,” He said it in the most matter of fact, most irritating sing-song tune he could manage. Beelzebub’s face seemed to color in light of their own exasperation, and they pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Figure of speech, you moron.”

“We don’t do figures of speech, Beelzy, that’s for humans.”   
“Hm? When did  _ angelzzz  _ decide what demons can do with language?” They jabbed a clawed finger to his neck, or at least tried to, as they were too short to get much higher than his breast-pocket. 

“For one,” Gabriel holds his hands up defensively, although it was really just for show. “...The Almighty did come up with the spoken word and written word, so no matter  _ how  _ you attempt to communicate with me, be it Spanish or English or Norwegian and what have you, you'll always be using Her devices.” He gestured upwards, smug as ever. 

“Oh?” Beelzebub made a face like they were considering his answer, before they reached behind them to pull something out of their pocket. This instantly had Gabriel at attention, and he watched carefully. Even if things with the prince had never gotten violent before, he couldn’t trust a demon to stay peaceful. For all he knew they might have brought some hellfire with them, to destroy one of heaven’s most powerful. But that wasn’t it.

Without saying another word, they brought back their closed fist between them and glared up at the angel. He didn’t take his eyes off their hand, so he had a perfect view of them slowly beginning to flex their fingers. Well. Finger. Only the middle one, to be exact. Ah. 

Gabriel gave a hardy, fake laugh. “Har har, real mature. What are you? 200 years old?” 

They just stared again, like they were making a point, their crude gesture still held high and proud. Beelzebub raised their eyebrows.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” He huffed, putting his hand over theirs to shield his pure, wonderful self from the insulting finger. “You made your point, let’s just get this little talk over with, shall we? Hm?”

The demon dropped their arms to their sides, and sighed. “Alright. You firzzzt.”

“Well!” He clapped his hands together, pleased as punch to finally be getting somewhere. “I think I might have found a way to acquire hell-fire immunity, without turning native.”


End file.
